Much Too Young To Feel This Darn Old
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Ashley Seaver has always been old beyond her years...and today just proved it. TWO SHOT. Done as an example for the Theme Song Challenge on "Chit Chat on Author's Corner".
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: Hello, readers. Just a brief note for you all today. For those interested, we have a new challenge up at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner". Sign-ups for our theme song challenge run through May 14, 2011. The rules are simple. Tell us your favorite character about which to write, the character you'd like to receive a story about AND what you envision that character's theme song being. We think it'll be a lot of fun and hope to see all of you there! All our best!**_

_**Also, the second annual Profiler's Choice Awards ARE on the horizon. Please visit our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" to read the details we have released about this year's awards and offer your opinion on any changes or things you'd like to see this year. It's right around the corner!**_

_**I wrote this story to illustrate the challenge. I hope ya'll enjoy it. Song inspiration: I'm Much Too Young to Feel This Damned Old by Garth Brooks.**_

* * *

**Much Too Young To Feel This Damn Old**

**Chapter One**

It was dark when she got to work and dark when she left. And she was okay with that.

Most days.

Today, however, as she stood staring out over the grounds of Quantico, twilight casting an eerie glow over the many buildings, she realized that she wasn't okay. Not even close.

Today, she was tired...exhausted on a level so deep it made her bones ache.

"I'm much too young to feel this damned old," she muttered to herself, letting out a deep sigh that seemed to rattle her shoulder blades.

Leaning her head against the cool glass, her eyes drifted closed. This new career path she'd chosen for herself had given a whole new meaning to the words "full steam ahead". The pace was relentless and unforgiving. The job itself was grueling. Viewing the unspeakable...the depravity of a human mind was often more than her own consciousness could comprehend.

Now she knew why the burnout rate was so high in the Bureau.

"Ashley?" a deep voice called from behind her.

Great, she though grimly as her overworked mind recognized the voice, just what she needed. A pep talk from the man single-handedly responsible for the destruction of her family, such as it had been. Of course, if she was honest, if there was ever a family a bomb needed to be detonated within, it was hers.

But that didn't change her thoughts right now.

She should have hated him. After all, if not for him, she'd still be living in the happy land of delusion, never aware that a serial killer lurked in her midst, let alone that that shrouded figure had been her own father. Her mother would never have become a raging alcoholic, unable to deal with the revolting truth that the man she'd married...she'd loved...was a monster masquerading as a man. If not for him, they could have all remained unaware that the blackest of evils pervaded every aspect of their lives.

The truth, however, was quite simply that he'd probably been responsible for saving their lives. If her extensive studies had taught her anything about her sire, it was that they'd been existing on borrowed time. Eventually, his wrath would have extended to them. And his family would have become his victims.

Those pertinent facts precluded her from hating the man that had exposed her father's deeds. Or even disliking him.

As hard as it had been over the years to accept, he'd very probably saved her life. So, simply ignoring his presence wasn't particularly polite.

"Agent Rossi," she said softly, acknowledging his presence behind her.

"You okay?" Dave asked, standing a step behind his youngest teammate as he watched her raise her forehead from the glass. "You seemed a little off today."

Damn it, she silently cursed. Of course he'd be watching the serial killer's daughter for signs of struggle, wouldn't he? Her mask must be slipping if he had noticed anything at all. "Just fine," she said, turning to face him while simultaneously pasting a smile on her face.

"Yeah, that innocent act doesn't work on me," Dave replied, leaning against the wall as he shoved one hand in his jeans' pocket. "Three wives and a lifetime of profiling have made me kinda good at reading faces. Yours doesn't say that you're fine."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you," Ashley replied brightly, shrugging as she deliberately met his eyes without hesitation. "Maybe you need to find your glasses."

"Attacks on my age won't win you points either," Dave returned, raising one eyebrow as he kept his gaze focused on her now reddening face. "You've got a few years ahead of you before you'll be skilled enough to adequately divert a seasoned professional. Why don't you just try answering the question?"

Pressing her lips together, Ashley seethed as she tried to come up with something witty to say rather than what she really wanted to say. How could this man always manage to sneak beneath her well-honed shields? Why him?

"Go ahead," Dave invited, lips twitching as he watched the younger woman obviously battle to keep her temper in check. "Say what you really want to say."

"You can be a real asshole, can't you?" Ashley spat before she could control the impulse, the words firing off her tongue with machine gun rhythm.

"Oh, yeah. I'm the genuine deal," Dave replied conversationally, nodding as he raised one brow. "No disputing that."

Laughing in spite of herself, Ashley rolled her eyes as she felt her earlier anger start to lessen for just a bare second. "At least you're honest about it."

"I am," Dave agreed. "And I'm still waiting. What's going on with you, Ashley?"

Licking her lips, she sighed. There was no point in trying to dodge his questions. If there'd been one thing she'd learned over the last few months of shadowing him in the field, it was that he could be as tenacious as a bulldog when he caught a whiff of something. "I got a letter from my father today," she confided quietly, the words catching in her throat as she met his gaze once again. "It's the third one in two weeks."

Blinking as he absorbed her confession, Dave considered his response carefully. He knew Seaver's feelings regarding her father confused her, and not for the first time, he wondered if it wouldn't have been simpler for all of them if the bullet he'd been forced to put in that man all those years ago had been just a few inches higher. "Did you read it?" he asked slowly.

Walking toward her desk, Ashley nodded as she sank into her chair. "Yeah, I did," she revealed, pausing as she reached for the envelope on the corner of her desk. Staring at it a moment, she glanced up at Dave. "He wants to see me. He says it's time and that he wants to make amends."

"Amends?" Dave snorted derisively, accepting the letter she held out to him. Unfolding the simple sheet of notebook paper, he scanned the contents. Lifting his eyes back to hers a second later, he murmured, "He's dying."

Swallowing tightly, Ashley nodded jerkily as she stared at the coffee cup on her desk. "I called the warden of his prison this morning to verify what he says. I thought maybe it was a ploy for pity," she laughed bitterly, blinking hard against the tears she refused to shed. "It wasn't," she breathed. "Pancreatic cancer. He has maybe a month. And he wants to see me before the inevitable happens."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: Hello, readers. Just a brief note for you all today. For those interested, we have a new challenge up at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner". Sign-ups for our theme song challenge run through May 14, 2011. The rules are simple. Tell us your favorite character about which to write, the character you'd like to receive a story about AND what you envision that character's theme song being. We think it'll be a lot of fun and hope to see all of you there! All our best!**_

_**Also, the second annual Profiler's Choice Awards ARE on the horizon. Please visit our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" to read the details we have released about this year's awards and offer your opinion on any changes or things you'd like to see this year. It's right around the corner!**_

_**I wrote this story to illustrate the challenge. I hope ya'll enjoy it. Song inspiration: I'm Much Too Young to Feel This Damned Old by Garth Brooks.**_

**Much Too Young To Feel This Damn Old**

**Chapter Two**

"Ashley," Dave whispered, dropping his hand to her stiffened shoulder as he watched her fight tears, her eyes bright. "It's okay to grieve."

"Grieve?" Ashley laughed again, bitterly, as an incredulous look swept over her tight face. "He doesn't have a right to grief."

"But you do," Dave pointed out gently.

"Grieve what?" Ashley asked, forcing herself to look at the man responsible for her father's capture. "He was a monster. I might not have known it at the time, but he was still a murderer."

"And your father. You're allowed to grieve for that."

"No," Ashley barked, shaking her head quickly, unwilling to allow that thought to take up permanent residence in her mind. "He hasn't earned it and he sure as hell doesn't deserve it."

"You've earned it, Sweetheart," Dave countered, squeezing her fingers.

"I looked it up, you know," Ashley replied as if he hadn't spoken, barely able to feel his touch. "It's going to be painful," she whispered. "He's going to suffer. And I know," she choked, her throat suddenly closing against the emotions, "nobody deserves it more, but..."

"...but he's your father," Dave finished for her, sliding his thumb across her hand. "And you don't want to see your father suffer. That isn't a crime."

"Isn't it?" she asked weakly. "He doesn't deserve mercy, does he? Not after what he did. And you wanna know a fun fact...I don't even know what he did. I never had the guts to read his file. I've let my imagination fill in the blanks."

Watching her, Dave prayed she never did investigate her father's crimes. Not even her imagination could do justice to what that psycho had really done. "There's no point in revisiting a past you can't change, Ashley. Leave his file alone," Dave urged. "You've got enough to concentrate on right now. Do you even want to see him?"

Averting her gaze from his penetrating stare, Ashley stared up the stairs toward his office. "I...I'm not sure. After all these years, I don't know what he could possibly have to say to me."

"The profiler in you knows what he wants," Dave sighed. "Your forgiveness, your absolution..."

"It's not my forgiveness he needs," Ashley whispered, her hand gripping wildly at the edge of her desk. "And as for absolution, I don't think there is any for his crimes."

"You're probably right, but right now, I'm not concerned about him. I'm worried about you," Dave noted grimly.

"I'm fine," Ashley spoke woodenly, repeating the words she'd spoken earlier in their conversation, knowing that if she ever lost faith in that simple statement that she would truly be on her way to the land of no return.

"I'm beginning to think those two words should be banished from your vocabulary, Babe. Especially since you can't manage to say them convincingly."

"Well, here's three you can sink your teeth into," Ashley retorted hotly, her eyes flashing as she glared up at him. "Go to hell," she spat, rising abruptly from her chair.

"I've already taken my tour there, Kid," Dave returned evenly, catching her arm before she could escape. "And I didn't care for the experience. See, I was alone when I went on my little excursion there. I'm not gonna let that happen to you, too."

Inhaling deeply as their gazes clashed, she realized she was no match for him. "Why?" she asked angrily, the need to strike out at someone, anyone, overwhelming her. "Why do you even care? I'm not some good deed you can perform to absolve you of your sins, Agent Rossi. Your duty was done when you caught my father. Your obligation was fulfilled. You can let go now," she declared, her voice rising as she attempted to jerk her arm away from him. "Let me go!"

"Nope," Dave replied, his voice steely as his grip remained just as strong. "Not while you're this upset."

"I'm not my mother," Ashley whispered, stricken suddenly as waves of memories crashed against her weakening defenses. "She took the easy way out. I won't do that."

"Oh, I'd say that much is obvious," Dave agreed somberly, turning to tug her toward his office upstairs. "Every choice you've made since you grew up has proven that to anyone that looks, Ashley."

Glaring at the hand manacled to her wrist as she was forced to follow him up the staircase, she retorted, "And exactly what's that supposed to mean?"

Releasing her as he slammed the door to his office, Dave met her irate stare. "It means that you're determined to show the world that you aren't like either one of your parents. You became an FBI agent to combat your father's past. You never touch a drop of alcohol because you refuse to succumb to addiction like your mother did. You're living you whole life in an effort to not be who they were."

"The alcohol didn't kill my mother," Ashley growled, her hands slamming to her hips as she shook her head. "He did. My father! He might not have gutted her like his other victims, but it's his sins that put that bottle in her hand."

"That might be true," Dave replied as Ashley huffed loudly. "But, it's ancient history. I'm more concerned with his impact on you."

Slowly deflating as she realized that he was honestly concerned, Ashley sagged against the leather couch that was tucked against one wall of his office. "What do you want me to say?" she asked helplessly, unaccustomed to having others care about her personally. "Yes, my father has affected the choices I've made. I admit that. But can you blame me for not wanting to be a reflection of the examples I had?"

"Of course not," Dave murmured, moving to sit beside her, careful to allow her the space she still apparently needed. "But your life is your own, honey. Your family helps to shape and influence who you are, but it doesn't dictate who you're going to be. I think somewhere along the way, somebody neglected to explain that to you. You're in the driver's seat, Ashley. You make the decisions that are right for you. You've got to stop making every moment of your life an effort to atone for the sins of your parents. You can't, babe. Because their sins belonged to them. You can't pay for something that you don't own."

Releasing a shaky breath as his words seeped into her, Ashley bit her lip. "Somebody should have to pay," she whispered, her fingers digging into the edge of the leather cushion as she desperately sought for something solid in her spinning world.

"He is, Ashley," Dave murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her rigid body against him. "And he will in a life beyond this one as well. But you," he whispered against her hair, "have got to let it go and be the person that you were meant to be."

"What if I don't know who that person is?" she asked with a tremble in her voice, letting herself sink against him, her mind somehow trusting that he was not going to disappear.

"You'll do what the rest of us do. Figure it out one day at a time," Dave answered gently, cupping her shoulder tighter as she tucked her head under his chin.

Nodding against his chest, she felt the defenses she'd spent years cultivating begin to crumble around her. And for the first time since childhood, she allowed herself to cry, for those that had been lost...and found.

_**Finis**_


End file.
